Silverbow
by Arveldis14
Summary: Enril believes herself to be nothing more than a ranger. She envisioned her life as solitary one, always hunting for the next orc to slaughter right up to the day she dies. When offered to join a quest to reclaim the Kingdom of Erebor, Enril may start to realise that there is much more to life than being 'Just a ranger.'
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to my hobbit story. I wasn't planning on posting this story until my other one was finished but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. 'Fate Be Changed' will still be my first priority so this story won't have the fastest of updates. This is going to be a Fili/Ranger story. Please let me know what you guys think. I always appreciate any reviews, follows, and favourites.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything concerning Middle Earth. That honour goes to J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own my OC, Enril.**

The tales of Silverbow is known to many of Middle Earth. Though the people knew only of the great things she had done, not of who she herself was. They knew she was a great archer, hence how she received her name. She was also fierce with a sword. Many who knew of her skills would say she was a handy ally but a deadly enemy.

A few inhabitants of Middle Earth had seen her with her silver hood down. Many of those were orcs about to have their heads separated from the rest of their body. Fewer still, knew her true name, the one she had received at birth. Those few people were a select few, the people she trusted. Everyone else only knew of the name she had received as a ranger.

Her bow wasn't really silver, it was a dark oakan brown of Elvish make. Her cloak was how she was seen as the silver archer, it was known as her trademark colour.

Silverbow was a ranger of the north clearing the area of Orcs and Wargs. She usually worked alone, sometimes seen with a few other rangers who were close to her.

She was also a close friend of Gandalf the Grey Wizard, he had helped her early in her years. When she had been in the most trouble. Silverbow still felt the need to repay him for all he had done for her, always watching the enemy and relaying the information to the Wizard.

There was a time not long ago when she, and two under her command had hunted an Orc pack seen near the forest of Fangorn. Not a large pack, their numbers had little chance against the experienced Rangers.

Her two best fighters, Ravenhood and Scarlet had spent most of their lives with Silverbow learning from her the skills needed to go against the Orcs. They were both loyal to her, for she had saved both their lives from the vile orcs. Scarlet had been an outcast of two races, being half Elven and Man.

They took down the Orcs easily, Silverbow and Scarlet with their archery skills, and Ravenhood with her twin swords. None escaped that day, Orcs were stubborn when it came to retreating from their enemies and this pack of orcs had been no different.

It was then that she found a rag stating a price for Thorin Oakenshield's head. Silverbow knew black speech, it was one of the the languages she had deemed necessary to learn. For without knowing their language, she would never know what the enemy planned to do with her.

Silverbow knew well of the dwarf. He and his kin had been exiled from their kingdom because of a dragon's greed years before she had been born. Though it had been rumoured that it had been King Thror's greed that had brought the dragon.

She had shown the rag to Gandalf a couple of months after the fight with the orcs, at the prancing pony in Bree. The grey wizard had appeared distressed at the news asking to keep the rag and letting her know that he would let Thorin Oakenshield know of the news.

Silverbow left the inn a few minutes after she had finished talking to Gandalf. She had decided that she was long due a visit to Rivendell . Little did she know that not long after she had left, Thorin Oakenshield and Gandalf had talked about reclaiming the Lonely Mountain at the same table she sat with the wizard only minutes before.

It has been recorded in many books of history of that very meeting in Bree. The one that had led to the legendary quest to reclaim the dwarven kingdom from the dragon, Smaug. Silverbow had been part of that small company of thirteen dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit. This is the tale of Silverbow's part in the retaking of the Lonely Mountain.


	2. A Talk With A Wizard

Orc bodies lay dead around Enril. Minutes ago, each body had been alive and breathing, until killed with one shot of her Elvish bow. It had once been a small pack, fifteen orcs all which were on foot.

The sun was starting to set, illuminating the plain with a bright yellow-orange colour, and her dark brown hair swirled with the light evening breeze that came down from the north.

She wasn't far from a town, two miles to be exact. Once she had burned these corpses she would ride to Bree and pay for a bed to sleep in for the night.

With her bow still in hand, she slowly searched each body for anything of importance. Something that could possibly explain the growing of orcs she had encountered these past months.

This was always her least favourite part, trying her best to ignore the vile stench that came from the dead carcasses. Though it had to be done, no point leaving this pack unsearched when she could have found something to answer her many questions.

Enril was worried of the unusual number of orcs. Of course, there had always been orcs in these lands, but these vile creatures were becoming bolder. Raiding innocent family homes just to kill the people inside, certainly not something to be easily ignored.

She had checked half of dead bodies when her hazel eyes caught sight of a lone figure riding in the distance. The chestnut horse was obviously galloping towards her. The rider, a man wearing a grey cloak and a colour matching pointed hat, could be no other than Gandalf the Grey.

"Gandalf," she called out when the wizard came close, "What brings you here?"

Gandalf didn't answer her until he had dismounted from his horse's heaving back. "I have a proposition for you," he answered giving her a smile.

"Oh?" she replied interested. She sat down on a fallen log and rested her body against the tree trunk behind her. Usually when Gandalf came to her, he had something important to tell her. "And what is this proposition?"

"You remember of the time I told you of my concerns of the dragon?" he started.

"Smaug?" Enril enquired. Gandalf has been worried of the Lonely Mountain for quite some time now, to him, the dragon has sat on the gold for far too long. He too, shared her concerns for the growing orc numbers and suspected something more sinister than the just an orcs' boost of confidence.

"Yes, I discussed the option of retaking Erebor with Thorin Oakanshield," the wizard continued. "He believes that the only way to rally the dwarven armies is to steal the arkenstone from Smaug."

"So?" she questioned. She didn't understand what this had to do with her, but Gandalf wouldn't come to her unless there was a good enough reason.

"There is a quest, one that myself will be a part of, one that will hopefully end up with the dragon dead. I am offering you a chance to join, the company will surely need your skills sometime before it ends," Gandalf stated.

"A quest?" asked Enril surprise clear in her voice, "To reclaim Erebor? That is a death wish, Gandalf, surely you have not forgotten what this particular dragon is capable of?"

Gandalf gave a small smile at her reaction "Of course I haven't, my dear, but I would surely be beyond surprised if the legendary Silverbow would turn down such an offer."

"I am just a ranger, nothing more and nothing less, besides knowing you, these dwarves probably don't even know that you intend to include me in _their_ quest," she replied.

She knew, as well as Gandalf that dwarves didn't trust easily to those of the race of men. To include a human ranger into a dwarves' business would have a lot of objections.

The sun had almost set and the plain had turned into a bright orange colour by now. Enril pull her hood up partially over her head, so that her hair was covered with the soft silver material.

The wizard sat down on a large log opposite from the rock Enril was sitting on before admitting "Not yet anyways."

Enril rolled her eyes at this, of course it was just like Gandalf to go ahead and invite her to join a quest when the rest of the group didn't know anything about it.

"But they will if you decide to join," he added thoughtfully.

"And what if I don't?" she pried not looking at the grey wizard, her attention on grabbing the smoking pipe inside her travel bag.

"Then the dwarves needn't know anything about my asking," Gandalf answered. The two then fell into an awkward silence, that's what Enril felt anyway. Gandalf looked comfortable watching the sun very slowly sink lower.

She knew that Gandalf was waiting for her answer, but she herself didn't know what to do. It was a great opportunity to aid in a quest, but she was worried about orcs not a dragons. It could also have terrible consequences if they failed, but a great success if the succeeded.

"I don't know, Gandalf," Enril sighed. She traced her fingers over the still unlit pipe, the designs on the wood sketched her own hand during her many travels. "I'm not sure if this quest is for me. I'm an orc killer, not a dragon slayer."

"I never said you had to kill the dragon, my dear, only to aid the dwarves to their destination," Gandalf replied. The wizard stood up and picked up his staff. "You could think about it if you would like, the company will be stopping in Bree for a night. If you decide to join, meet us in The Prancing Pony, a week from today."

Enril didn't reply until Gandalf had mounted his horse and was about to ride off. It was then, when she made an unusually quick decision that she might possibly regret later on.

"Gandalf," she called out. She hurriedly stood up and walked over to beside the calm chestnut. "I hope you know what you are planning on doing, but I will be there if I can."

She knew that she may have been foolish with her choice, but she had nothing else to lose. Her family were all gone and so were the people she had once called her friends. She trusted Gandalf, even if this quest was the reason for her death.

Gandalf's only reply was a one of his warm smiles before he nudged his prancing horse into a gallop, leaving Enril to prepare her horse, Jazli, for the ride back to Bree.


End file.
